The Celestial Breed
by Words of Heresy
Summary: Saruman White, a prosperous retiree, is a renowned dog breeder, famous for his unsurpassed hunters. His only mistake was to move in next door to Gandalf Grey, the affluent philanthropist and well-know animal lover; famous for housing abandoned strays. SLASH
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I know I really shouldn't be starting a new story since I still have P&P and FOH to finish, but (A) I couldn't resist writing this down when the idea popped into my head and (B) I'm only three chapters away from finishing FOA, so to all my FOA fans please don't fret! I've made a plan to finish it in January! :)

Quick Notes

1. Sarama - In Hindu mythology she is described as the mother of all dogs.

2. Saluki - Royal Dog of Egypt or Persian Greyhound is one of the oldest known breeds of domesticated dog. Salukis are "sight" hounds, which means they hunt by sight, run the quarry down, catch it, and kill or retrieve it. The normal size range for the breed is 23–28 inches (58–71 cm) high at the withers and 40–60 pounds (18–27 kg) in weight. - If you have more time of want more information google them, they have a fascinating history! Here's a picture:

www. .uk/ Uploads/daxlore_now. jpg (delete the spaces)

3. This story will be Thorin/Thranduil an Gimli/Legolas in later chapters!

* * *

Saruman White was a businessman. He spent 25 years climbing the corporate ladder, and 15 more at the top; as CEO of White Inc, a print and label company for aspiring brands. His ingenious ideas and ruthless leadership garnered him a rather notable reputation across Europe, and had the shareholders rue the day of his retirement. Still a sensational party was thrown in his honor, and after a stringent toast by the ever heavy-lidded retiree, some brave, curious, soul piped-up from the back of the room, to inquire after his future plans.

"I intend," intoned Saruman, "to sate my competitive nature by involving myself in breeding prize winning dogs."

A year later he was comfortably settled at Isengard Estate. An old family home in Windsor, that, among other things, possessed an impressive extent of land. A few months' later passers-by began to notice that on occasion a flash of pure white could be seen flying over the countryside, like a streak of lightning on a foggy moor.

**Isengard Estate **

Thranduil was pacing the wide expanse of the drawing room, occasionally pausing to watch the door, both ears raised in hopes of catching a sound; when none came, he would resume his pacing.

So it went for some time, until the soft click of the latch caught his attention. His master stepped out, hands covered in blood and placenta.

"You can see her now, but be quick about it; I would have her buried before nightfall," he drawled dispassionately, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.

Thranduil slinked by and through the gap in the door, trotting briskly past the many cabinets of historical artifacts and ancient treasures. At the end of the room, tucked into a corner, lay a white, stationary form on maroon beddding; the only movement rising from the shuffling at her middle, accompanied by a litany of weak mews.

Lowering himself to the ground, Thranduil made the rest of his journey crawling. His elegant front paws scratching against the marble, slipping and struggling to drag himself forward; like a man swimming against the current. When he was finally in reach of her, he stretched his neck until the tip of his nose was pressed against her cold cheek and dragged the length of his tongue over her muzzle. She did not stir.

Wailing, he made another effort, but in vain. Out of the corner of his eye, Thranduil caught a tiny movement at her side. Rising and leaning over he began snuffling the blankets aside. Beneath the linen cloth lay a row of seven puppies; seven tiny, pink-skinned, little critters, all fighting for a chance to suckle on their mother's tit.

Thranduil noted when one of the babes disengaged and started crawling with determination towards his mother's face. Lying down, he carefully placed his muzzle in the way of his expedition; but the puppy, as he found out, was not to be deterred; and with but a few laborious whines, scaled the taxing hurdle.

Narrowing his eyes with silent delight, Thranduil waited until the puppy was stretched halfway across his muzzle, before lifting his head and carefully transporting the adventurous little tyke back into the pack.

'This one,' he decided 'was special.'

**1 year later**

"Legolas!"

"Yes father."

"What are you doing? Get down from there!" barked Thranduil, pacing the floor. The little brat had found a way to climb the stack of barrels in the barn, and was now proudly parading himself on the second floor.

"But father, look how high I am," whined the youth; and to emphasise his point climbed further up, atop a bale of hay.

"Legolas!"

"Look father look," sang his son, hopping up and down and shaking his head; ears fluffing up with the vigor of his movement.

"I can see you," growled Thranduil with a long suffering sigh, "now for the love of Sarama, come down here!"

"Why?" whined the youth, tilting his head in genuine curiosity.

"Firstly because it is not safe, and secondly because I wish to speak with you before the hunt."

"Hunt!" exclaimed Legolas, his entire body shaking with excitement, "really I can come on the hunt? Really?"

"Yes," confirmed his father with a regal nod, "the master thinks you are ready."

"Yes!" barked his son and began to somewhat hazardously climbing down from the barrels. Hopping elegantly from one to another, which even with his miniscule weight had the barrels shaking somewhat rancorously. Thranduil whined and paced on the spot, his nerves coming through at the sight of his only remaining child gallivanting on a mountain of dancing wood.

"Master wants me to go hunting with him!" he yelled, "He must have seen my poten…Ow!"

Legolas recoiled at the sudden pain in his ear. His father only ever nipped him when he was especially angered or concerned by his behavior; this did not bode well.

"This is not a joke Legolas," growled his sire. At 12 months Legolas was almost at his full height, but still a few good inches shorter than his father. Cowering, he hung his head. "The hunt is not a sport for us like it is for the master. It is dangerous and sometimes fatal!" he growled. "The master is not a forgiving man; he shoots the horses who go lame in the chase, and sells the dogs who fall short of his standard. If you fail to bring forth all your skill, he will not have a reason to keep you, and I," his voice changing tone, until it was nor but a subtle whisper, "I cannot loose you."

"Father!" Legolas' head shot up to look inquisitively at his sire; his father's eyes had dulled into lifeless orbs. Stretching out, Thranduil ran the top of his tongue over Legolas's crown; who in turn bowed his head to study the cobblestones.

"My shining star," Thranduil spoke at length, "you mean everything to me. I do not know how I could live on without you here to rake my nerves with worry, and shade my whiskers grey," he playfully nudged at Legolas until he looked up; "but I know the master, and he is not a kind man; generous and wise, but not kind. He does not see value beyond purpose, and regards anything below perfection as implacably flawed."

Legolas shuffled his feet nervously.

"That's why today you must follow me exactly, and do everything I say without question; do you understand?" he asked gently.

Legolas nodded vigorously, making his ears flap up and down.

"Alright than, let go to the stables. The master would be about ready to set of I'd imagine, and it's never wise to keep him."

Together they left the barn. Legolas respectfully falling one step behind.

**The Hunt **

Legolas plunged through the air like a fish through water; the cool autumn wind biting chillingly at his nose and watering his eyes. His swift pace swept golden foliage underfoot into flurries of clouds. The hare ahead of him feigned a left, before leaping back on course. A beast with less keen eyes might have fallen for this diversion and sent his master astray; but he was a Saluki and he was bred for this.

To the right of him ran his father, keeping equal pace with his son, though his longer legs afforded him greater stride.

"Keep course," he instructed, "there is a burrow up ahead for which he is heading. I will cut him off," then he fell back and vanished in the foliage. Keeping his word, Legolas obeyed his sire and kept track of the hare. Behind him he could hear the thunders beat of the master's beast. Vaguely he wondered how many dogs before him had been trampled, simply for stopping to soon. The thought unsettled his callow mind, and caused him to loose the rhythm of his pace. For a moment he froze, fearing his thoughts might befall his own fate, when his feet, as if of their own volition, began moving themselves once more.

Up ahead he spotted a flash of white, and as he ran, Legolas began to distinguish his father's form standing tall and proud, besides a well-concealed mound of soil, which he concluded, must be the afore-mentioned burrow.

"Halt!" ordered the master, pulling his horse to a stop. Legolas didn't stop; his father had already explained to him that when the master said "halt" it was only meant for the horse. Behind him he could vaguely here the clink of metal; then a bang like a clap of thunder rang out across the terrain. Something whizzed past his ear and stupefied the hare, slumping the little body to the ground.

Legolas slowed his pace, and trotted the rest of the way to the quarry. His father watched him from where he stood, but made no move to meet him.

"Legolas," called the master, "retrieve."

The youth immediately clasped the warm and twitching mass between his jaws and traipsed obediently to his master's side. The man did not stoop, but extended his arm, and Legolas forced his neck to stretch as far as it would go, to place the hare in his palm.

"Very good," praised his owner, in the same indifferent manner that was common of him. "I was right to have kept you. Thranduil never fails to select the best." He stashed the carcass in his saddlebag and turned for home. Legolas waited for his father to join him, before asking with trepidation:

"What did he mean father?" knowing his sire would have heard the master.

There was dullness in his father's eyes, and his strained posture gave him a standoffish countenance.

"Nothing you should concern yourself with," he said, "you should be proud of your achievements today. You ran like a true hunter."

Legolas felt unsettled by his father's detachment, and they spent the rest of the walk in ominous silence.

**10 Months Earlier **

Thranduil was lead into the barn; his master's hand steady on his leash. Inside it smelt like milk and dry oak, with a lesser odor of urine-fermented straw and feces. The puppies were everywhere; on bales of hay; buried under piles of straw and old newspapers; nosing at empty bowls of food and drinking from the bucket of water. They were wrestling, sleeping, grooming and exploring. The place was a bustle with life.

Thranduil noted that most of them were white in color like himself, with only a couple of puppies in darker shades. He wished he had gotten to know them, but the master was strict in keeping them apart; and two weeks after the birth had them placed in the barn, with only the servants allowed inside to maintain them.

"I felt it prudent, since you were so well versed in choosing my last hunter, that you should be allowed to do so again," said the master and walked him into the room. They circled the barn a couple of times, with puppies running up to sniff at him cautiously before bashfully scampering of again; when he spotted a white pup putting all his weight against the single window and scratching tirelessly at the glass. His eyes were bright and determined, a wrinkle of concentration on his pale brow.

Pulling his master forward, he propped himself against the side of the barrel on which the little one was seated, and nosed his flank. The puppy spun around from the window and began to sniff curiously at the stranger.

"That one?"

Thranduil barked.

"Very well. I christen him Legolas," muttered Saruman and clasped a collar around the fidgety creature, fastening a leash a moment later. Clinically he lifted the puppy by the scruff of his neck and placed him on the floor beside his father.

"In time we will see if you are truly your mother's son" he said, leading them from the room.

* * *

**R&R**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Yey Gigelos! **  
**

Notes for this chapter:

1. This is the photo I used as inspiration for Gimli's character.

www.

geocities.

ws

/saxxonstaffords/

latest_news

/Kaje.

jpg

(Delete the Spaces)

and if you want to read up more on staffies, there's some awesome stuff on google and wiki :)

2. Gimli is the representation of England's lower class, that's why he has terrible pronounciation. I hope it doesn't give you too much trouble! If it does, let me know and I'll ease up a little!

3. I threw in a line from a My Fair lady song, cookies and jelly beans for any one who can find it :P

4. I've been having trouble with my link, can someone who checks out the Gimli photo let me know if the link works? I'll give you cookies!

* * *

**Isengard Estate **

It was a pale morning, the kind that ushered in a rainy day or a biting wind that shook the trees naked. Legolas loved these mornings the most; they were generally the outcome of a rainy night, and as such, carried with them the promise of a quiet day. The soil would be soft, and master would step outside with a cup of tea and dig the heel of his riding boot into the ground. If it gave and the shoe left a noticeable indent, the master would frown and mutter under his breath; storming inside and not emerging for the rest of the day.

His father preferred the dry solitude of the barn, and would mostly spend his day there; dozing and watching the mice scatter by in their own little word; bustling about from one corner to another, with bits of fabric or grain clutched triumphantly in their mouths. Legolas could admit without shame that to, was once, his favorite past time. They would spend every day his father was not out hunting, lying together and amusing themselves with the charming display of energy portrayed by such tiny creatures.

However, this was a thing of lighter days, when him and his father could speak of anything and confide in each other without reserve. But ever since Legolas's first hunt, his sire seemed to grow distant. Almost like he'd accepted that Legolas was already lost to him, and any further attachment would only increase the pain. The young Saluki was unsure what bought about this lack of faith from his father. Granted, since that first hunt six weeks ago, the master had set more challenging game to track; badgers, polecats and once even a large red fox. He was successful in every hunt, and was yet to disappoint his master, but Thranduil grew no warmer to him with every lucrative hunt.

That is when mornings like this, when he could explore on his own and let his mind wonder with free, uninterrupted thought, became the answer to his loneliness. Here he could wander the woods, that separated the master's land from another estate across the river, without purpose, and be himself.

A flying fox made a hazardous leap from one oak tree branch to another. 'A bit late for her to be flying' he thinks but watches curiously as she scamper up the trunk of the tree and disappears into the thick foliage. A few feet to the left of Legolas sat a beaver, rapidly washing his whiskers, with outmost effort. He barked and the beaver froze mid motion, slowly, so as to remain unnoticed, he lowered his tiny paws to mid stomach. After a short stare-off the beaver deemed it safe to resume his grooming, and Legolas was once more left to his boredom. That was the trouble with wild animals; no one ever wanted to play with him.

Walking along side the river and further into the woods, Legolas, out of sheer desperation for something to do, lowered his head to the ground to try pick-up other scents. He decided to make a game of it, see how many scents he could trace, and then see how many out of those he could recognize. About a quarter-mile down the river, a most unusual pungent scent hit his nose. It was strange and unknown, and yet something about it was familiar; Legolas just couldn't put his paw on it. Deciding it might be worth tracking this particular creature down, if only to sate his peaked curiosity, the Saluki lowered his eyes to the ground, and along side the intriguing odor, followed the trail of prints.

He was not ten steps on his way, when a growl startled him from his mission.

"Who are you?" snarled a strange looking creature, not two feet away from Legolas. The Saluki was so stunned at the sight of such a strange beast, that he failed to prove him with a timely reply. Instead he took a long moment to study the creature better. It was a smooth-coated beast with ginger fur, of muscular build and with a low center of gravity, which gave it a stunted demeanour. The head was short and deep, with a broad skull and prominent cheek muscles that emphasized the size of the jaw, making it appear almost comically large on creature of this size. He had round, medium-size eyes, a pale shade of grey; not unlike the sky of Legolas's beloved morning. The ears were half-pricked, and together with the permanently engraved frown lines on its forehead, made the beast appear to be in a state of perpetually curiosity. A short, muscular neck led the way to a broad chest and strong shoulders, unnaturally muscled for a creature of such short statue. The legs looked athletic if rather short, and with the advantage of his height Legolas could see the curl of a lowered tail.

"I," he said at length, "am Legolas, and who are you?"

The creature lifted his head another few inches to its obvious physical peak and barked domineeringly:

"I am Gimli."

The threat of his tone was lost on Legolas, who was far too curious about this animal called 'Gimli'; for if he was resident to these woods, it would only do well for him to recorded all weakness, to make for an easier hunt. Cautiously he began to approach the beast, careful to stay out of reach; for though Legolas felt confident he could outrun him, the beast had a fairly dangerous looking mouth, that could probably lame him severely with but a single bite.

"Oi, what'cher doing yeh fruity fawn?!" growled Gimli, when Legolas started running around him. The beast tried to keep his eye on Legolas by clumsily spinning around in circles. This proved to be more amusing than Legolas had anticipated and he couldn't help but release a series of soft chuckles.

"What's so funny?" The frown on the beast's face deepened.

"You are, you silly creature," laughed the Saluki, "I am not a fawn, I am a dog."

"Whataya tike me for, a fool?," the beast huffed in annoyance, "never 'ave I seen a dog like you laddie, and I've been aroun' plenty."

This caused the Saluki to pause; where would a wild animal have an opportunity to be around many dogs? As far as he knew the wild and the domesticated creatures did not do well in each other's company.

"I am a dog," he argued, "I am a very highly praised breed of hunting dog, know to the humans as a Saluki."

"Aha," muttered the beast, in the tone of the deeply skeptical, "than why're yah dancing aroun' me in frilly circles?"

"For your information, creature," sniffed Legolas, "I am studying you for weaknesses, so that one day, when my master comes for your kind, I will know exactly how to bring you down."

"Are yeh daft, lad?" cried Gimli, through the growl of a deep chuckle. "I'm a dog, not some bloody ferret yeh can chase down with those twigs of yers, or kill with yer beak of a muzzle. Look at yeh! Yer nothing but bones laddie; I could probably brin' yeh down with one push of my snout."

"Excuse me!" growled the Saluki; ears and tail rising in anger.

"Easy lad, I'm only playin' aroun'," placated the smaller dog, sensing a fight coming on. "Must be quite a lonely place yeh got here if yeh don't even know what another dog looks like," he muttered and walked over towards the stream; after a lengthy drink of water he continued. "I'm a Staffordshire Bull Terrier. I think I 'ave a history of 'unters in me family, though I never done it meself."

"A Staffordshire Bull Terrier?" asked Legolas, being careful to annunciate every word.

"Aye, a Staffy"

"So there are others? Other breeds I mean?"

"Aye, I 'lone live with a bunch of mutts, of all shapes an' sizes, just over this river 'ere."

"So you've come from the neighboring estate?"

Gimli nodded

"And how many of you are there?" Legolas questioned; realizing somewhat belatedly that this direct line of inquiry might be impolite; but far too curious to pay his manners much heed. 'Plus' he thinks, 'if that dog can swallow half of his letters, surely I can get away with a few brusquely phrased questions'.

"Too many to count laddie. Mos' come and go; a few, however, are permanen' fixtures aroun' the house like meself; those to old or to stuben to be move anywhere," he chortled and sat down.

"Moved where?"

"To anothe' 'ome with a new maste'," replied Gimli. Lying down he lifted a leg and began shamelessly grooming himself, in plain sight of his young companion. If dogs could blush Legolas would have been flaming in his embarrassment. He bashfully turned away at the first sight of a ruby manhood, and forced all his attention on a June bug nonchalantly crossing the sandy bank; unaware of the travesty occurring less than two feet away. Legolas wished only to trade places with it.

"What's wrong laddie?" Gimli's voice was curious, and a moment later Legolas heard the terrier hull himself to his feet and walk over to him. "You alright?"

"I'm just not used to seeing someone so openly groom themselves in the company of another dog," admitted the Saluki, not ready to meet the eye of his companion when he plonked down to sit beside him. Gimli made a giant yawn that displayed his impressive bite size, and Legolas couldn't help but admire it out of the corner of his eye. What must it feel like to have jaws of such magnificent size? One could easily bring down a bobcat, or maybe even an deer with jaws like that.

"I forget," said Gimli, "you live 'ere all by yerself don'tcha?"

"No I live with my father," said Legolas and leaned down to help the June Bug, who had an unfortunate run-in with a steep piece of wood, and was now on his back, and in dire need of assistance.

"And yeh neve' groom in fron' of each other?" Gimli sounded surprised.

"No," Legolas said firmly, "my father told me it is a disgusting habit, and that we are above such barbaric lack of etiquette."

Gimli's chest rumbled in amusement. He got up and shook himself off, like one might after being bathed.

"There's more to life laddie than fine manners an' poncy etiquette," he said and started for the river.

"Where are you going?" inquired Legolas, rising to follow the smaller dog. He wasn't sure why, but the prospect of being so soon parted from the terrier saddened him.

"'ome laddie. It's almost lunch time I'd imagine an' I'm never one for missin' a hearty meal," he threw over is shoulder, already neck-high in water.

"Will you be back?" whined Legolas when the other dog was halfway across the river. He watched Gimli reach the opposite bank, shake himself dry before turning and barking back;

"If yeh so please I'll come back in the mornin'," he barked.

"But," fretted the youth, "I might be on a hunt, and you'll miss me!"

With his kin eyes Legolas caught sight of the other dog's mouth stretching into a lazy smile.

"Than I'll return the mornin' afte', and the one afte' that; until I catch the scent of yeh fruity shampoo," he laughed. "Didn't think I made such a great impression, that you'd be so unwillin' to part company laddie." Then with another growl like laugh, he was gone; and Legolas, eager to detail the marvel of his adventure, ran full-speed towards the barn.

* * *

**R&R**


End file.
